Page 68 of Lord of Fire and Ice

“Ja, Brandr the Far-Traveled has come home.”

“And recently wed. Don’t forget that,” Malvar said, rubbing salt into Gormson’s wounded pride. “Ulfson will be too interested in what’s under his new wife’s skirt to be wary. He’ll not be looking for an attack.”

Albrikt nodded slowly, seething resentment making his eyes narrow for a moment. “You’re right. The timing might make all the difference. We’ll take that cove by the end of next week.”

“Of course you will. The Old Ones have told me it will be so.”

Malvar smiled when Albrikt surreptitiously made the sign against evil. Fearful people were always more easy to control, and it amused him to think that Albrikt believed he could protect himself from the Old Ones with a mere gesture.

So Brandr Ulfson has returned. Interesting.

There was bound to be a way for Malvar to use that information against the traveler’s father. It might be the last stone needed to crack Ulf Skallagrimsson’s flagging will. If nothing else, it would please him to inform the jarl that both his sons were about to fall into a trap from which there was no escape.

One their father’s weakness had made possible.

Chapter 24

Katla’s back was as straight as a red pine as they continued to cut through the dark blue water of Hardanger Fjord. She turned her head to follow the flight of a pair of eagles headed for their aerie, and gripped the gunwale when the waves grew rough, but she never said a word.

The old proverb is right. “It’s the still and silent sea that drowns a man,” Brandr thought ruefully.

Whenever Brandr tried talking to her, she pretended not to hear him. He’d expected her to sulk for a while, but the whole day was spent, and the dim purple smell of nightfall was on the brisk wind.

Even now she wouldn’t speak to him.

“Might as well talk to a tree,” he muttered as a light shower of rain pattered over them. He raised his voice. “There are a couple oilskin cloaks in that trunk, princess. Perhaps Your Highness would deign to fetch them out for us.”

That made her shoot him a glare over her shoulder that ought to have turned him to stone. But to his surprise, she seemed to acquiesce. She rose and opened the trunk.

And pulled out one cloak for herself.

She spread the oilskin over her shoulders and sat back down, still facing away from him.

Brandr tied off the tiller to keep the boat in trim and stomped to the center of the craft. He stood over her as the rain fell in stinging needles, but she gave no sign she was aware of his presence.

“Move,” he ordered when she continued to ignore him.

She drew her hood tighter around her face, snug and dry under the pelting rain.

Brandr bent over and yanked the trunk out from under her. A finger’s width of water had accumulated in the bottom of the hull. She gave a little yelp when her backside landed in it with a wet plop.

“Don’t expect an apology.”

Brandr opened the trunk and pulled out the remaining cloak. He flipped the oversized gear that could double as a tent around himself and made his way back to the tiller. Ordinarily, he enjoyed a bobbing vessel. Dancing with the sea to keep his balance was part of the fun of sailing, but his mood was too surly now to enjoy anything about this trip.

Especially since Katla had made it plain she wasn’t enjoying anything.

“You’ve no one to blame but yourself,” he growled.

“Really?” She moved back up to perch on the trunk, facing him this time. “Did I force my way onto this boat? No. Did you ask me if I wanted to come with you? No. I had no say in the matter at all.”

He untied the tiller and brought the heading of the prow around a point or two so they’d clear the rocky shoulder of mountain jutting into the fjord.

“Would you have come with me if I’d asked?”

“No.”

“Which explains why I didn’t.”